


We are all sheep

by Synapsida



Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, D/s, Eventual Smut, F/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Priest Kink, Profanity, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut, he is a smug ass, smut in chapter 3, we are all braver when we're drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21245837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synapsida/pseuds/Synapsida
Summary: Our Captain Hazel has the hots for a certain vicar - drunk one night she asks him out





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Obsidian had no reason to came for me this hard with their characters.  
Also no romance, but damn.  
So I have to pick up the pen like many others are doing right now, doing .. uh ... the laws work.  
This is unbeta'd and posted long after midnight so be gentle with me people i'm sorry.

Pavarti had a date.

Her crew-member had a date.

And she had helped her on every step along the way, because obviously she was that kind of captain now. Not that she had ever been any kind of captain before.

Before … before the Hope, before colonization, before waking up feeling like a kitten someone had tried to drown, before everything really she had been .. someone different.

The glass of spectrum vodka in her hand felt heavy and she decided to get rid of that weight on her chest by emptying it. The purple liquid burned on its way down her throat.

Of course personal affections blossomed and wilted alike in a life that was lived in such close proximity to each other.

She refilled her glass.

Her thoughts strayed from the perhaps-couple upstairs, away from the glum thoughts that chased each other in her head over to her own desires. Those feelings she had buried mere weeks ago to cope with an unfamiliar world. Sadness and confusion and a primal desire to be and live and feel and soak it all in.

„Stars, Hazel.“ she muttered, addressing the glass of vodka in her hands like a trusting friend.  
„What you need is a good fuck.“ she took a sip from her drink and grimaced at the taste.  
„And maybe more or less of that stuff. Black holes and aether winds that is disgusting.“

Yeah. A good fuck. Maybe she should just go upstairs, knock on a certain someones door and ask him to take off those damn teasing vestments. That man wielded a shotgun as if it weighed nothing and a pleasant shudder ran down her spine at the thought of lean muscles and strong arms and how his stern expression would look like when he pressed her down into her bed.

Sure these were only one-person bunks technically but dammit nothing made a person more resourceful then one of the primal f’s in human life.

She only realized that she had absent-mindedly answered a knock on her door when the low voice from her fantasies spoke to her and made her question reality for a second.

Of course she would get disturbed when fantasizing about a priest by said priest himself. She felt heat turn her ears red but looked up from her glass nonetheless to meet his steady gaze.

„Captain Alex, am I disturbing you with something?“ there was a smirk hiding in the corners of his mouth - fifty percent amusement, fifty percent sarcasm, a hundred percent ass. A typical Max expression.

„Yeah … no … I mean … ugh.“ she let out a small groan of frustration and watched the smirk actually reach his eyes.  
Collecting herself to form a semi-coherent sentence she took a deep breath, exhaled, pointed to the other chair in her room and managed some sort of helpless shrug.  
„What can I do for you, Vicar?“

He sat down and watched her with a frown.

„When I came aboard I did offer my assistance as a counselor and seeing that the kitchen is out of bounds tonight and Ms. Wentworth and Dr. Fenhill dragged Felix for a ‚night out‘ to the Groundbreaker, I wanted to check in on you.“

He looked at her all priestly and regal with that goddamn smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes that yearned to be reminded as the expression of a lazy raptidon lounging now but ready to strike at any time.

„That’s … thank you. Do you want something to drink?“ she tore herself away from her very non-religious thoughts, gesturing over to the small bar table in her room.

And not a few minutes later they were sitting at her table again, a bit closer then before - _don’t get any thoughts Hazel_ \- she herself still working on her second glass of vodka, he on his first glass of wine.  
„Do you mind a question, Captain?“ he began after a long silence that felt loaded with anticipation.

„Shoot, Max. No secrets here.“

„What’s your real name?“

She almost choked on the vodka in her mouth and had the general decency to not look into the eyes of a vicar she had reprimanded for lying just a few days earlier.

Sly dog.  
„Hazel.“ she said instead.

He gave her a slow nod. There was no need for words from his side, she felt scolded just by the stern look he gave her.

Heat crept up her cheeks and someone had dropped a lump of coal into her gut as well, the warmth pooling between her legs and betraying any thought of non arousal.

The things he would be able to make her do with that look alone were probably forbidden in most of Halcyon.  
„Give me a break, Max. One moment i’m a human popsickle, ready to melt into a puddle of organic goo. Next moment…“

„I’m merely curious as to why you … never told me.“

„I was occupied. Y’know. Saving my ass, saving your ass, getting Parvati on a date, getting chewed on by raptidons …“ she took another swig from her glass.

She knew she was deflecting and he knew too and worst of all - he didn’t have to say a word. Did he know that she was fucking clay under his gaze?  
A deep sigh escaped her lips.  
„I lied for ADA so that she could recognize me as the captain. And then I stuck to the lie because I didn’t want to get caught by the officers. And then I didn’t know you or Parvati and it kinda … carried over and then there happened so much that I … got used to it.“

She let out another deep sigh and looked up from her glass to check on his expression.

„I’m sorry Max. I wasn’t honest.“

Another silence fell between them and she passed the time by emptying her glass fast and hard and contemplating something stronger. An anesthetic maybe. Perhaps Ellie would be so kind to offer something to take her out for.. say .. three to four weeks.

„Hazel“ he said, his voice a register lower than she was used to.  
„Do you prefer being called Hazel?“

„Yeah …“ the young captain opted for another glass of vodka.

„Do you prefer Max? I mean … you’re not a Vicar anymore. Or are you? You are still wearing your …“ instead of finishing the sentence she gestured over his stature.

The perhaps-vicar chuckled at the notion and folded his hands on the table.  
„It’s mere semantics. Vicar or not. It is all -„

„- an Illusion anyway. Don’t get me existential on my third glass, I beg you.“ she threw him half a grin and lifted her glass for him.

One corner of his mouth quirked upside in a smirk.  
And then with his next question he caught her entirely off guard: „Say, why do you hide in your room and drink all alone?“

She gaped at him like a fresh saltuna in drydock.  
Hazel felt tired all of a sudden - tired in places were normal sleep didn’t even get to. Tired and lonely again, the thoughts from before her fantasies - a quick glance assured her that the strong jaw was still there, his lips parted every so slightly while waiting for an answer - came crushing back.  
  
„Guess I felt like formatting the … the hard drive.“ she answered weakly, offering a helpless shrug. 

The world started to lag behind the movement of her head, so she tried to focus on either the priest or her words. Maybe she had downed those drinks a tad bit too fast.  
„I apologize. I didn’t want to pry if you intend to spend time alone.“ Max started to get up and somehow as he got up her hand caught his and she heard - to her own growing terror - herself say a heartfelt: „Don’t go.“

If there was ever a moment for Ellie to bring her anesthetics to take her out it passed by in that very second.

She froze on the spot.

Law, his hand felt good in hers.

The lump of coal someone had thrown into her lap before was followed by a whole bucket now, heat creeping in every direction of her body and painting her face bright red.  
„What … what I mean …“

She took a deep breath and then realized that she was still holding his hand.

„Is that you find my companionship irresistible?“ his eyebrows quirked up just a little bit.  
She was still gaping, then opened her hand to let him go, only to find his hand firmly grasping hers.  
  
„That I don’t … mind your companionship“ she quipped back, the expression on his face had an edge now she couldn’t quite decipher. The wild thing inside that used to lash out before his … enlightenment was now a focused beast, something he was willing to unleash if necessary, but on purpose. He had made peace with the animal inside and was now more dangerous than before.

The tall man looked down to her, her tousled brown hair and now glowing face, her lips pressed together, jaw set hard.

And she looked up to him, his frame, the broad shoulders and those thoughts sneaked back into her mind, told her to imagine how he would look without his impeccably clean vestments, how his hair would look after …

„Are we just going to stand here now?“ she joked and yet felt his steady gaze on herself.

It was some sort of built-in sinner-repent feature of his vicarness she guessed, or maybe it was a skill he had honed personally, but she felt like an open book. An open, swaying book where the letters started to jumble all around.

His hands were warm and the moment stretched into eternity,The sudden clarity drunkenness sometimes brought on told her that she wanted this man.  
„Maybe …“ she whispered and felt his other hand gently touching her elbow.

„Maybe?“ he asked, quirking his eyebrows just so.

His presence was a physical thing that filled her quarters and made it difficult to think.  
„Maybe I … go to bed now. And … perhaps … perhaps …“

If he just could have stopped looking so inquisitive. Knowing. Amused. She got the distinct impression that he was enjoying himself tremendously. At least on the inside.

„Dinner and drinks. Tomorrow. Just to get me outside of this ship.. uh … companionship an’ all.“

He smiled now - a lopsided, sly thing.  
„It would be my pleasure.“

His thumb caressed over the back of her hand, just like that, and then he let her go and said his goodnights and she could feel the weight of his presence and the touch of his skin for the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date with the vicar goes just about as awkward as you'd might imagine. But hey, he seems to have other things on his mind anyway.
> 
> This is, as before, unbeta'ed and written way past midnight. Hope you'll enjoy it anyway.

„You’re on a date … with the vicar.“

Ellies voice easily drowned out the constant hum of the engine, her small frame leaning against the wall next to the door.  
„Am sure…“ Parvatis voice came out from under a panel to the left and got clearer as she pushed herself out from under it.  
„There’s a sweet side to him.“  
„Yeah. Sure. And i’m a mantiqueen.“

„But he did agree to it, so that’s good… yes?“

Hazel watched the discussion among her new family unfold and contemplated - probably for the fifth time this day - asking ADA to throw her out of an airlock.

„Because he’s an ass.“  
„He is on the outside. And he got a lot calmer.“  
Ellie snorted loudly and shook her head.  
„Give you that, he’s a much calmer annoying ass now.“

Two pairs of eyes grazed Hazel, who had her head buried in her right hand, looking very un-captingly.

„We’re just going out … uh .. eating and stuff.“

„Yeah I bet it’s the stuff that’s going to be interesting. Can he even do stuff, being a vicar and all that? Not that I want to know.“

Parvati stifled a laugh at Ellies remark and the Captain groaned with embarrassment.

„Just eating then.“

She should’ve never told those two. Just have fabricated something about having a run to do that just required the vicar and her. Would Max have played along? With his demeanor she was never sure. She could practically feel his stare on the back of her head when she tried something funny. He was really not the type for 'something funny'.

„Oh, he’ll probably have a course full of d-„  
„ELLIE!“  
She should have asked the sawbones for those anesthetics. By the void she would’ve taken a wrench to the head if it would only knock her out. Repeatedly if necessary.

„Captain, just do as you told me. Be honest, enjoy your evening and see what you will find in the vicar.“  
„More ass, probably.“

Maybe, just maybe, ADA would vent Ellie out of that airlock too. Just for her. And if she asked really really nicely.

* * *

„Enjoy yourself.“  
She would swear that ADA was mocking her.  
There were a lot of eyes pointedly not watching when they departed, but the vicar took it all in a stride. Maybe he didn’t notice. His expression was unreadable - an empty face, serene and demanding respect just by being there. Nobody dared asking. If someone had told Felix she would personally commit murder just after she finished ... this. Whatever it was.  
Oh, Elli surely had told Felix, just to fuck with her.  
So much for being a person of authority on her own ship.

She felt a tight knot form in her stomach as they walked over to the Lost Hope. They didn't really talk so she was almost surprised when he lifted his voice.

„Captain Hawthorne, I have taken the liberty to get us a table in advance, seeing as you most likely want to avoid prying eyes and ears.“

His voice was steady and pleasant, a matter-of-fact-tone that was just a bit too pointed for her taste. She felt as if behind the facade he was dissecting her every move, assessing her before bringing his final judgement down on her. Just being her, going over to a table and being with him, sitting face to face at a table stashed away in a corner, awaiting his impending judgement settled heavily in her gut and made her ears burn red.

Would he look like that at her in bed?

Would he assess her and, when particularly pleased with something she did, look at her in that stern way of his and tell her how she had done good.

Would he have her on knees, atoning for her sins, his strong hand gripping her chin to turn her head this way and that way.

She looked into his eyes and knew she’d beg for mercy. She knew she’d beg all night and absent-mindedly rubbed her thighs against each other. Just some friction.  
„Something is occupying your mind, Mrs. Hawthorne.“  
Would he call her Miss in bed.  
Or would he call her Hazel?  
She couldn't see him calling her Captain, except to mock her gently when looking up at him with pleading eyes.

„Uh … I … was thinking.“

_Smooth. Really really smooth, Hazel._

„Really now.“ he said, the mock giving his voice just so much of an edge.  
„You .. uhm … know how it is.“

The bell saved her - or, to be more precise - the arriving plates of food.  
Nothing fancy, but enough to buy her time to catch her proverbial breath and urge down the heat that threatened to burn away all rational thought.

She had three bites before he closed in on her again.

„So, Ms. Hawthorne. Care to share those thoughts that occupy your mind even now? Can I perhaps … set your mind at ease somehow.“

There was only the slightest pause in his words, just as there was only the slightest glint in his eye. The corner of his mouth twitched treacherously as she fought the urge to not actually wriggle in her chair.  
„It’s more of a, uhm, psychological thing.“ her answer was weak and she knew it.  
Was she even trying?

Before yesterday she was able to string together a sentence that at least formally classified as a coherent thought. Over the last 24 hours she seemed to have lost that ability at an exceedingly fast rate. She doubted it would return any time soon.

The vicar leant forward, all but abandoning his meal, his hands carefully resting on the table before him. The glint in his eyes was all but gone, all his attention focused on her. She felt as if the jury was about to come together to pass judgement on her. All the evidence lay before him.  
She would open herself up to him in all the ways he dared to imagine.

„Hazel, you can confess to me any time, you know that?“

Her mouth went dry.  
He was doing this on purpose.  
She was abso-fucking-lutely sure.  
Her higher mental capabilities ceased to exist for a moment and she was positive that if she opened her mouth just a bit more she’d probably drool on the table.

Of course she’d confess.

Confess and praise him. On her knees and bent over that table in his room.

Confess with her legs pushed up to her ears everything she had ever done.

Praise his name and the philosophists and the chaos that he had embraced.

She would invent new misdeeds just for him to confess to.

She gaped, mustering up the couple of brain cells that had not yet committed suicide by horniness to form an answer.  
„Max …“

There were a thousand ideas in her head wrestling to get out. She exhaled very slowly.  
„You’re killing me, you know that?“

„In what way am I killing you, Mrs. Hawthorne?“ his voice dropped lower.  
She would melt under his gaze she was sure of it.

„Fuck Max. You know what the fuck I’m talking about.“

„I’m afraid you’ll have to spell it out for me.“ he smirked just ever so.  
He was toying with her. She saw it and felt it. He had her in his hands and on a hook and she was not even fighting it, just easing into it to be formed anew.

The bastard, the ass, the fucking priest smirked at her as she sat on her chair, avoiding every movement as she felt slick and wet already. Just by sitting there and being coaxed out like a particularly interesting wild beast.

She forced air down into her lungs. Her face was burning now, her eyes grazing over his strong jaw, his lips - ever ready to mock or growl - his neck and the blue vestments, the clasps that had her wondering how fast they could be undone.

„Please, don’t make me say it.“

He raised his eyebrows at her appeal.

She hadn’t thought it possible but his voice dropped even lower. It was the sound of the prison priest in a fight and it made her squirm in her chair.

„You will tell me, Mrs. Hawthorne, what I want to know. And you will not make me ask twice.“

She bit her lower lip and closed her eyes, felt her core tighten with want. This was how he played this, how he led the dance.

„I want you, vicar.“

He raised an eyebrow, the glint in his eyes now dark and hungry.

Hazel hesitated. It was out. She had said it. What could he possible want more.

A moment passed, then another one and just as he opened his mouth she closed her eyes and answered again.

„Please, vicar. I want you to have me.“

A smile settled on his face - one that hinted at teeth and blood and violent enthusiasm, too predatory to be a hundred percent comfortable.

His right hand reached for her, gripped her chin and turned her head around so that she had to look him in the eye. The grip was hard, his calloused skin almost scraping over hers. It would surely leave a mark on her.

„You are a fast learner. Come with me now.“

The jury was ready for assembly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just smut. Pure smut.  
And with that I have finished my first story with the vicar. YAY! Stay tuned for more :D
> 
> As always, no Beta. Thank you for your kind comments so far <3

He had not only rented a table, but also a room.

Walking over to the small room was nothing short of an antedated walk of shame, given how many people on the Groundbreaker knew her - be it as Alex Hawthorne or ‚that captain of the Unreliable‘.

She didn’t have a mind for it though, not really, as the vicar had taken her hand and lead her - like a sheep to .. whatever, her mind intervened but she pushed the thought away.

He led her through the pathways of the massive ship with brisk steps until they reached the room - a small but cozy thing with a cot big enough for two people, featuring a table and glasses and drinks.  
If she hadn’t known the vicar to be … so occupied with himself, so him…

It was thoughtful.

That was the word she had been looking for. It was thoughtful and surprisingly eager.

He closed the door and silence settled between them. The heat between her legs that had subsided somewhat during their walk came back in full force as the gravity of the situation hit her. This was not idle fantasy of hers but the real deal.

A pair of heavy hands landed on her shoulder and a thumb caressed over the exposed skin on her neck.

She shuddered.

When had someone last touched her like this? Some 75 years ago, give or take a few weeks?

She heard the sound of fabric rustling next and then she felt his breath next to her ear as he bowed down, felt his lips press against the spot right behind her ear and just above where his thumb continued to caress her.

„Hazel, you know that whatever happens here“ his voice was a low rumble, rough and husky. It was enough to make her empty insides clench with need.

„Whatever happens here you can always say no.“

His lips left a trail of small kisses on her neck, and then her jawline and then he grabbed her shoulder and urged her to turn around, placing a small kiss on the corner of her mouth.

She opened her mouth, greedy to return the kiss but he pulled back and looked at her, his face expressionless except for the hungry glint in his eyes.

„Tell me you understood what I just said. Tell me that you will tell me to stop, if necessary.“

„I will, Max.“

„Good“

Something in his expression changed but it was impossible for her to pinpoint. He bent forward to place a small kiss on her lips, then took several steps into the room. His eyes focused on her, took her all in, but something akin to dissatisfaction crossed over his face.  
„Get undressed, Mrs Hawthorne.“ he said simply, folding his hands behind his back.

She hesitated for a split second, then bent down to undo her shoes. Her hands were shaking slightly, fumbling with the laces and the double knot she always used.

„Do you already require my help, Mrs Hawthorne?“

How could he be this impossibly annoying and hot at the same time. She groaned and wriggled out of her boots without bothering with the laces. Boots kicked into a corner she got back up and opened her belt.

Her shirt followed her boots quickly and finally she pulled down her pants and pushed them to the side with one foot. The room felt unbelievably cold against her hot skin, more so when she looked up to the vicar.

The man sighed and ran one of his hands through his greying hair.

With two quick stride he was back to her and pushed a finger between her skin and the strap of her bra, clicking with his tongue disapprovingly.

„Really, Mrs. Hawthorne, you should know better. I will help you, but only this time and because I am in a particularly good mood today. Do you understand me?“

She breathed a hollow ‚yes‘ while his hands did a quick job of removing her bra.

He hooked his thumbs between her skin and her panty afterwards, going down on one knee and pushing it slowly with him.

She shook, just a little bit, when his lips touched the bare skin of her thighs on the way down just so, the contact so small and fleeting she wasn’t sure it had really happened only a moment after.

Once down she pushed the panty away with her foot.

He had taken a small step back again, and took her all in now: All the barely healed bruises, the imprints from where her armor was a bit too tight, the messy hair she was barely able to restrain and her slightly open mouth. How her breath went faster then usual, how she rubbed her thighs against each other probably without fully realizing.

„Come over“

She closed the gap he had created and felt the heat radiating from his body. One of his hands found the flesh of her hips - broad strokes from calloused hands, his grip too hard to be really gentle. The other cupped a breast, a thumb first rubbing over her perked nibble, then two fingers pinching it, eliciting a surprised gasp from her lips. His hand travelled upward over her collarbone, stopping at her neck to close around her throat for a second - not enough to cut of air or blood but enough pressure to coax a small groan from her.

And then his hand cupped her chin and moved so that a finger pressed against her lips. She opened them willingly, took his finger in and began sucking on it on her own accord.

„Good girl“ he said and without breaking eye contact he offered a second and then a third finger.

He pushed his fingers deeper until she started to swallow.

„Take it slowly, Mrs. Hawthorne. I just want to see how much you can take. Keep your ambition for later.“

She already felt slick between her legs and he removed his fingers from her mouth - one hand still on her breast - leading them downwards until they slid between her folds. The captain stifled a groan at the touch alone, unconsciously pushing herself against his fingers.

His hands stopped their administrations on her body.

„Stand still.“

She bit her lip and slowly let out a breath.

„I am sorry“

Satisfied with her response he pulled his fingers through her folds again, spreading the moisture from her core between her legs. He circled her clit and she bit her tongue to stifle another groan, desperate to not move and make his delicious administrations accidentally stop again.

„I want to hear you when I do this.“ he demanded and while his fingers circled her and pressed and rubbed in all the right places his eyes were watching her intently.

She groaned again, for real this time - she could already feel the built up of her orgasm, but forced herself to stand still and not move.

He pushed a finger inside her, leaving the friction to her most sensitive parts to his palm.

„Please, vicar.“ she moaned. She had waited so long for this. The wave inside her rose higher as he pushed in a second finger, spread her and applied more pressure.

She was close, so close when a third finger quickly followed, pumping into her, his palm on her clit and his other hand now closing around her throat.

„Yes, law, please.“ she begged and she bucked her hip into his hand involuntarily.

His fingers left her at once. She groaned with frustration and need, her mouth half open.

„Please, Vicar.“ she muttered.

„I told you what would happen.“ he said and the mocking tone of his voice sent a jolt of need through her insides. She whined.

„Please. Don’t stop. Please continue. I beg you.“ she pleaded.

„We will need to handle this the other way around.“ he said instead, outwardly impassive to her begging.

„On your knees, my Captain.“

Even the friction of her legs while going down on her knees made her whimper.

She watched him as he finally opened the clasps of his vestments and shrugged them off his shoulders like he probably had done a million times in his life.

He wore only a white shirt beneath - it hinted at a strong build, with lean muscles moving under his skin as his hand grabbed his belt.

Down on her knees she could see his arousal in form of his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers and she couldn’t restrain from sneaking a quick kiss to the spot in front of her.

Next thing she knew his fingers gripped her by the hair and pulled her head back with a small jerk. He sighed a sigh usually reserved for when Felix had said something especially stupid and as he spoke she could hear his eyeroll.

„I will cuff you to a piece of furniture if necessary.“

She groaned as he guided her head into a position so that he could look her in the eyes, a stern expression on his face.

„Maybe I’ll do just that. Cuff you to the bedpost over there, have my way with my that cheeky little mouth of yours and leave you here to whine until next morning.“

A smirk formed on his lips and it was a dangerous little thing - full of promises and hunger. He had opened his trousers and pulled out his erection - already hard and eager to go on.

„Please don’t“ she whispered, tearing her eyes from his hard cock and looking back up to him.

„Oh, do we have a confession?“

He pulled with his hand full of her hair and she opened her mouth once more, swallowing hard.

He took his free hand to align his cock with her mouth and pushed its head against her half parted lips. There was a small growl deep in his throat as he pushed and she opened her lips to let him in.

Hazel groaned once more as he slid into her mouth, her head secured by his firm grip. The vicar pulled out quickly and then thrust forward again, deeper this time.

Pulling and thrusting, each four or five thrusts a bit deeper he worked his way into her mouth.

She could feel a subtle shiver in his hand but was soon too distracted by swallowing and taking deep breaths through her nose.

He was fucking her mouth slowly, deliberately and as he groaned for the first time it went through her like thunder.

He thrusted, and she opened up her mouth more, felt him stretch her, tried to relax her throat for him, desperate to please him.

„Very good, Mrs. Hawthorne.“ he muttered as he thrusted again and she groaned down in her throat.

„I think I can forgive you this time“ he growled and thrusted one last time before he pulled out, his erection pressing hard against her cheek.

The fingers tangled in her hair loosened their iron grip andbegan to move tenderly over her skin, her cheeks, touched her lips as if to make sure he’d claimed her properly.

„Get up“ he demanded.

There was no need for her to actually move - he grabbed her arm and pulled her up into his strong arms. Moving back he pulled her with him - his lips grazed over her skin, devoured each inch that presented itself to him. He sank down on the bed and by grabbing her ass with both hands forced a leg between her thighs, pushing him down.

„You are allowed to come now. Once.“

His lips went back to biting and teasing and licking her. The fabric of his trouser was rough spoon wool, and its scraping on her clit was almost too much to bare. When he tensed the muscle in his thigh she moaned. She rocked forth and back and he took one of her nipples into mouth, his appetite for her voracious and untamed.

„Oh Law… Stars …“ she moaned as her movements became more frantic, the climax from before never gone. She threw her head back, presented herself to him and yelled his name in praise as the fire inside her washed away all rational thought.

He watched her come hungrily and while she still rode the last peaks of her high he turned them both around and pressed her down into the bed below.

„You know how long I have been waiting to do this, Mrs Hawthorne.“ his voice was husky and scraped over her skin like sandpaper.

„Max“ she groaned, watching him through half closed eyes, her body humming and overly sensitive.

The vicar hooked a thigh under his arm and positioned himself, pushing into her almost immediately.

She yelled again, her fingers burying into his back.

„Fuck me, vicar. I beg you please fuck me.“

His deep voice rolled over her like thunder, senseless wild sounds. He began to thrust, grabbed her second thigh under his arm and moved her legs higher to push deeper into her.

„Please fuck me. Please.“

Each thrust came harder now, pressing her into the bed. There was nothing gentle left in their coming together - only a primal desire to claim, to become one.

He let go of one of her thighs, his hand finding her throat and gripping her in an expression of possessive need. She yelled his name, gasping and when her walls contracted around him he became undone, moaning her name for the first time during their encounter.

A grunt left his throat as he filled her up and she whimpered under him, raw and oversensitive, both of them senseless and breathless.

„Max…“ she muttered, the first of them to speak.

He opened his eyes and her fingers got caught in his disheveled hair while she admired the man over her.

He pulled out of her and rolled to the side.

„I think my legs will feel sore tomorrow..“ she whispered, turning on her side to watch the man.

He chuckled, a sound she had rarely heard from him, and pulled her into a messy embrace.

„More than your legs will be sore after we’re done here, my captain.“ he whispered.


End file.
